


To Confront The Storm

by orphan_account



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Blood, Depression?, Episode 19, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Sandstorm A, Sandstorm B, Typical Night Vale Weirdness, idek, it's a weird thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 17:23:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3818698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One event. Two towns. Two radio hosts. Two different versions of coming home after work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Confront The Storm

**Author's Note:**

> First off: I'm still from Switzerland, so my English still isn't quite the best. Sorry.
> 
>  
> 
> Ok I don't quite now what I did there. I wanted to write WTNV, and I did, and ... eh, well, really, idk. I wrote this for a dear friend. She just listened to the two Sandstorm episodes, and I didn't want to spoiler her, so ... I wrote this.
> 
> Ah well. Sorry, Nea. It's a bit spoilered anyway, maybe. Idk? At least you get a look at how some things are not quite what they seem to be.  
> ... But most of the stuff I wrote isn't even canon. Erm. Yeah. Okay. I'll just stop here.
> 
> Hope you enjoy. :3

March 15th, 2013

11 pm, Night Vale

 

Cecil enters his apartment to be met with the depressing but familiar sound of … nothing. It's quiet. 

Some days are less quiet; he often hears the chanting of his neighbors while they're performing their daily blood stone rituals. Some days the television won't turn off. It mostly shows pictures of dying flies, then. And some days there are loads of missed calls on his mobile which he is happy to listen to after a long day of work. Especially when Old Woman Josie talks about going bowling together and how Erika (whatever Erika is; not angels, of course) helped her with her gardening work and so on. 

Today is one of the quiet-quiet days. Nothing is to be heard. No TV. No chanting. It's too late for rituals anyway; this would be just plain rude.

But … he would be happy about something … lively. He briefly thinks about calling Carlos, but this guy seems to be so consumed by his work lately that he just doesn't feel like it. No science today. He just wants … company. Someone to talk to. 

This has been a not-so-good day. The sandstorm, the strange vortex, his … double with these horrible black eyes and this smile which didn't seem like a smile at all. Intern Dana – or her double -, dead.

No. It has been a bad day.

A very bad day. He feels unhappy and uncomfortable and fraught, and the fact that he doesn't know why he feels that way, makes things even worse.

He hasn't felt this way in a long time. Not since Carlos came to visit, he thinks. Carlos is such a precious addition to this town. And … his life. Carlos with his white lab coats and his perfect hair and teeth … Carlos.

But this day brings all these old, unwelcome feelings back somehow. Cecil considers crying, but it's so much _stress_ to fill out the paperwork and bring it in to the Sheriff's Secret Police and waiting for the official _approval of crying time_ , and … ugh. No. 

He decides to make coffee, instead.

***

March 15th, 2013

11 pm, Desert Bluffs

 

Kevin enters his apartment, humming a little song, greeting his fluffy, cute little StrexPet by throwing a stick at him. It has become a ritual, he doesn't even know anymore why he wants to throw _sticks_ at his cute companion, but … oh well, it just seems to be the right thing to do.

The little tapping sound in the wall lets him know that the dog ghost is there again, and he smiles, because it's nice to have company. 

Oh Smiling God, he loves his town. Everything is so _perfect_. 

He goes into the kitchen and makes himself a cup of delicious StrexTea.

He goes through his notes while the tea is steeping on the living room table. This is going to be a very productive week. He has already sketched out the radio show program for the next few days!

A new yogurt shop will open tomorrow, and he'll be there to interview the owner, Gregory Huff. It's been a while since they have met. 

Which is strange, in a way, thinks Kevin, because the two are best friends, really. They used to play billiards nearly every week. Huh. Well. Life changes, and there simply is so much important work to do.

He shrugs these thoughts off with a smile which grows even wider as he thinks of Marcos. 

Marcos, this town's most beautiful person. Marcos, the historian who finds Desert Bluffs so very interesting. Marcos, who finally answered one of Kevin's calls and now wants to meet to … _discuss some things_.

Kevin takes the cup of tea, embracing it with both hands, just like he had embraced his double. What a wonderful day.

The tea is warm. The tea smells wonderful. 

It is mandatory to drink one cup per day.

He smiles.

***

March 15th, 2013

11:45 pm, Night Vale

 

The coffee helps, just like the long, hot shower. Cecil sits in his bed, curtains drawn, looking at old letters and postcards. He even uses his pen – not one of the make-shift ones, one of the _forbidden_ ones – to write his name on a sheet of white paper, just to see what it looks like.

He also writes Carlos' name and feels like a silly teenager.

C+C. 

Someone wrote the two letters on the wall of the man's bathroom in the radio studio and drew a heart around it. Cecil doesn't know who it was, but now he blushes every time he enters the bathroom. 

Carlos. Beautiful, perfect Carlos.

He feels much better now. He'll call Josie tomorrow and maybe Carlos, too. Just to … talk a little bit.

He hides all the letters and postcards and pens and fresh sheets under his bed again and opens the curtains. He looks out. From this window he can see Big Rico's.

He can also see the building right next to the famous pizza place.

The lab.

The lights are on. Carlos is working late.

Yes. He feels much better now. And he'll call Carlos tomorrow. For sure. Tomorrow will be better.

Cecil smiles.

***

March 15th, 2013

11:45 pm, Desert Bluffs

 

The cup is empty. 

So is he.

Kevin shakes his head, trying to get rid of this thought, but it sticks.

Tears well up in his eyes, and he can't help it. He doesn't understand it. 

Everything is so perfect.

A loud beeping sound breaks through the silence in the living room. 

And he remembers. His meds.

The daily mandatory dose of his StrexMeds. 

He stands up, walks to the bathroom. And he sees. He sees everything.

The broken windows. The blood. 

The _perfect_ destruction.

He remembers Marcos' words.

_”We need to talk, Kevin. What happened to your broadcasts? You are so … different. What about fighting Strex? What happened to you?”_

_“Huh? I don't know what you mean, Marcos. You sound sad. You should smile more.”_

_“I won't give up on you. They won't get you. Not that easy. Not you. The whole town, maybe, yeah. But not you, Kevin. We need to talk. We need to meet.”_

He shudders. 

The perfection … 

He looks at the broken windows, and the perfection breaks apart, too.

The daily mandatory dose of his meds.

He opens the orange bottle and takes one of the pills between two fingers. 

He looks at it.

He looks at the broken windows.

He swallows the pill.

Everything is perfect.

Everything will be perfect soon.

Today was a good day.

Tomorrow will be a good day, too.

Kevin smiles.

It is not an honest smile.


End file.
